


Triad

by Belmont



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ashen Romance | Auspistice, M/M, Quadrant Vacillation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 06:23:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belmont/pseuds/Belmont
Summary: You never thought red, green and purple would mix well.You were right, because they don’t.





	Triad

**Author's Note:**

> I had this plotbunny in my brain and typed it out on my phone, lmao. Foz gets no love, what the heck people?
> 
> There’s mentions of sexual situations and alien biology here so fair warning- it’s not explicit though. They’re about 25-26 years old here, maybe Fozzer’s a little physically older due to shorter lifespan.
> 
> Partially inspired by themes from Starfighter, a m/m scifi webcomic by HamletMachine.

You’re approached by the first rainbow drinker you’ve ever seen in the early hours of the morning- or, rather, what you’ve come to understand means morning on the digital timepiece screwed against the engine room wall. Your spade weighs heavy in your hands despite the thick rubber gloves, and the sweat between your fingers makes everything just that much less pleasant when he shuffles you over to the corner of the rank smelling Vermiculite-derivative pits that help provide the insulation for the gold-blood’s raw energy output.

He’s so beautiful, you think to yourself, too beautiful to be down in this disgusting basement with his flawless skin and sharp, deep green eyes. This place is meant for those who toil in the mud and grime of Alternia; jade-bloods should be restricted from off world travel. Kept safe, like buried treasures.

“I need someone to mediate a relationship.” He isn’t even looking at you- his eyes are traveling the faceless red and bronze-bloods working inside the mineral pit of the ship’s orlop deck. “You were the first one I saw, so.” Then he is looking at you, but his expression is cold and indifferent. “I’ll be frank; I’ve literally had no luck with green, blue, yellow, and purple. You’re my last chance at calming this ingrate that finds it amusing to breathe my air in the control center instead of doing his job on the navigational platforms.” 

You squint. “You need someone to get him to be working?” When he slowly nods his head with a vacant expression, you press the back of your knuckles to your chin. “... Yes, yes. I can do this. We’re all comrades out here now, you know.”

That, you soon realized, was untrue. This ship might have been an auxiliary craft, but the level of segregation persisted powerfully even within the smaller crew unit. The short travel from lower to higher floor, even, was marred with sideways glares and sneers. A rusty should be busy with shoveling, not walking around up here unsupervised.

You met the jade, Lanque (not ‘Lank’, he hissed at you, and emphasized he was not a rainbow drinker so stop putting your hand over your throat—) on the control deck’s loading platform. Your eyes met as he explained that the troll in question was coming by shortly. You’d know him when you saw him.

When two massive hands came to rest on the slopes of your shoulders from behind you, you realized instantly that this was Lanque’s apparent enemy. “Yo, wazzupppp ‘lil buddy.” There was a radiating warmth against one of your glutes- his long, meaty thigh sending uncomfortable heat through the black ballistic fibers of the standard Alternian off-world suit every sorry troll had to don when they came of age.

You breathe deep, eyeing Lanque. The jade glares daggers at the massive creature looming behind you. “Marvus, this is Fozzer. He agreed to serve as auspistice until we’re able to safely break off this parody of kismesissitude and consent to mutual avoidance of one another for eternity.” 

When you look up at this Marvus, you realize two very important things.

1\. He is a purple-blood, and even though regulation prohibits face paint on off world vessels, he still looks every bit ethereally terrifying as those monstrosities honking about on the home-world.  
2\. He’s positively radiating pheromones, and not the kind that should be permissible on a crew ship. There were inhibitors given to lowbloods, but you suspect the highbloods were given exceptions so they could have their fun as desired. 

“No sweat, cuz. Motherfucker just checkin’ a homie out.” All those razor sharp teeth glitter in your direction, and every bone in your body seems to ache for the metal floor below you. Get down, submit, give him everything you have.

“Y’all tryna do another gutterblood? When you gonna learn that shiz ain’t tight cuz? Tryna make a auspice like this only gonna make mo prolems.” But the jade shook his head again, frowning. The tips of his fangs nearly puncture the perfect swell of his lower lip. “Be quiet, you imbecile. I know what’s good for us.”

At some point between the two of them abruptly arguing (screaming, getting up in each others faces, nearly ready to claw each other’s throats open), you give this auspice thing a shot and fight through the wave of cussing and hormonal fog to crush between their chests. Lanque is thinner and harder, long fingers wrapping around one of your horns in an attempt to shove you aside, but Marvus’s strong arm coils around your waist and keeps you still. You’re pressed to the softness of his chest with the jade behind you, something dimming the sound of the shouting into the soft whispery waves of air passing along through ventilation.

Teeth sink into what skin on your neck isn’t hidden beneath your collar. You’re snapped out of the fog by Lanque’s voice warming the shell of your ear, numbing the sting. “Don’t let him into your thoughts- he’s doing that to every single troll we’ve tried to auspice thus far.” 

Your eyes catch a glance at his lips- wet with burgundy, droplets rolling down his chin. He might not have been a real rainbow drinker, but golly he certainly looked like one. 

“We ain’t fuckin’ this one, fam?” You’re inclined to press back up into the clown’s softness, and surprisingly, he’s cradling you to his chest with his fingers laced in your sweaty hair as if he read your mind; the purple is being oddly careful of the holes in your neck like he’s afraid you’ll burst. 

“The nature of an auspice isn’t meant for reproduction.” There are hands sealed bruisingly tight on your hips. Lanque presses his groin into the swell of your glutes like he’s testing how the tactile feel of fucking you would gauge. There’s a purr from behind you when his bones meet your fat. Apparently, you pass. “I suppose we’ll consider this another loss, but one we can cut from.”

“This was not what you had been meaning, comrade,” you squirm against the clown, who now has his fingers running along the front of your suit like he’s trying to feel if you’re soft anywhere besides your ass. You aren’t. He feels between your legs to rub the outline of your nook instead and you almost kick out reflexively until Lanque is breathing at your ear again. His shape is unwavering and solid behind you; it’s strangely comforting and simultaneously making you wetter all at once. 

The pheromones are uprooting something deep in your brain that sweeps of dragging corpses into holes had long since buried. You never pailed, never really needed to, and gave the drones what they wanted when they came buzzing strictly out of self preservation. Now, you could feel the wetness building at the apex of your groin- a borderline animalistic desire to give these two strangers a warm place to fuck into for a few hours at best. Even your bulge throbbed in its sheath, crushed by the fabric of the suit leaving you a quivering mess between two bodies radiating raw energy.

Lanque pulled back first, eyes on the door of the loading area. “There’s no place to do this without being potentially caught, but this locale is absolutely out of the question.” He was talking to Marvus, you realized, and for some reason that wasn’t as startling to you as the fact the clown was still cradling you in his arms.

“Aw shizzzz ... welp, so much for a gud time hahaaaa!” A purple tongue lolled out of that wide mouth. “Party poopaaaaaa.” 

The arms gently untangled from you, and you leaned back against a nearby metal panel while the two higher bloods shifted themselves into a semi-normal state. Lanque spit the remains of your blood onto the floor, smirking at you over his shoulder. “We’ll fetch you when we need you next.” Marvus gave a deep laugh, followed by a ‘yee’ as he shuffled past the jade and through the door. 

A perfectly manicured claw gestured at the spittle before the other troll gracefully ducked out of the room as well, on Marvus’s metaphorical tailcoat. “-and Fozzer, clean that up before I’m back, will you?”


End file.
